


Married at First Sight

by Nakeycatstakebaths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe Reality TV, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff everywhere, Journalist Clarke, Mild reference to past character death, Reality TV AU, Sad backstory Bellamy, There's some weird pairings in this but I promise it'll make sense, This is a mix of How to lose a guy in 10 days and married at first sight, football player Bellamy, mild crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths
Summary: To say Clarke hates marriage would be an understatement and to say Clarke hates her job is an even bigger understatement. All she wants to do is write compelling takes on society and relationships but instead, she spends her entire week writing listicles about celebrity divorces. When her piece on the failures of modern marriage gets rejected, she decides to take matters into her own hands. If Buzzfeed wants her to write trashy, sexy, mindless articles, she might as well give it all she's got.What makes better entertainment than getting married to a stranger on reality TV?Bellamy Blake may be nothing like she expected...and he may not exactly be a stranger, but he's exactly what she needs to prove her point. Hating him was an added bonus, it just meant that she wouldn't be tempted to fall for him and it made her job a hell of a lot easier.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 30
Kudos: 82
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	1. Off to the races

**Author's Note:**

> For the Bellarke for BLM fundraiser!

“Griffin, this isn’t marketable…” Anya sighed, laying Clarke’s thick folder of research on the stylish acrylic desk. “This is Buzzfeed, we do cute and happy articles about sushi and dogs. Your pitch is frankly—really depressing.”

“It’s different! How many articles do we have about bridezillas and Vera Wang and a million other stupid wedding-related things? More and more women are choosing not to get married—” Clarke argued, pulling another folder of research from her bag.

“Yes, but this isn’t just about women not getting married. This is about how the idea of marriage in itself is archaic and flawed and has been completely devalued by our modern lifestyles.”

“It has been!”

“And you want to interview divorced couples about why they think marriage is a scam essentially,” Anya continued, slapping her hand on top of the folder for emphasis. “Do you understand why I can’t let you write this?”

“No, it’s a perspective that needs to be heard,” Clarke said, planting her hands on her hips. She couldn’t believe this, her research was thorough, her pitch was immaculate, the idea was unique. This was the kind of stuff that editors should be begging for. Instead, she was getting lectured in a glass office while all her co-workers watched and Josephine was happily getting approved to write her thousandth article about cats wearing sweater vests.

“You’re not even married! This going to come off as cynical and crazy if I let this go through. My ass is on the line here too, unless you can come up with something a bit more palatable, the answer is no.”

“Jasper literally pitched an article about ’16 different types of weed and the munchies they caused’ and he got cleared for a $2,000 budget to buy artisanal weed and snacks.”

“Because that sells! It’s fun, it’s sexy, it’s what people want to read.

Clarke was fuming, four years in school, and thousands upon thousands of articles in experience, and she was being relegated to making listicles about _The Real Housewives_ and what kind of wine they drink. This job was never supposed to be permanent, just a starting point, but without any valuable writing experience, she couldn’t exactly leave. The New York Times would laugh in her face if she showed them her current portfolio. She need a project with some substance, something gritty, exciting, this was supposed to be her big break.

But of course, Buzzfeed wouldn’t cooperate with her plan.

Trying not to let her irritation show, Clarke collected her documents and folders, shoving them hastily in her bag.

“I understand,” she gritted out, giving her boss a closed-mouth smile.

“Work on it and bring it back. Your idea isn’t terrible but it needs to be packaged better,” Anya shrugged, already turning back to her computer before Clarke was even fully out the door.

The second she reemerged, everyone scrambled to try and look busy. A small group of people rushed away with a cart full of McDonald’s bags, clearly filming some kind of video.

“I’m guessing things didn’t go well?” Harper asked, rolling her chair over to Clarke’s desk.

“She said my idea was unpalatable and depressing…”

“I mean, yeah, you aren’t pitching an article about how to make lasagna like Paris Hilton…of course she didn’t like it.”

Harper, unlike Clarke, actually wrote articles that were worth reading. She worked in the cooking department, managing Tasty and other recipe videos and articles. She liked her job and it suited her skills well. There was no universe where Harper, sweet as she was, could understand why Clarke was so pissed. To her, this was another rejection, but it wasn’t earth-shattering.

What she didn’t know was that Clarke had been researching this article for months, had spent hours upon hours of extra work into ensuring that her pitch was as airtight as possible. She had a good hook, her own parents were two people who fell out of love. It was shockingly common, couples who outgrew each other. She’d found potential people to interview, a wide variety of high school sweethearts, military couples, elderly people, all of whom had gotten divorced simply out of boredom. The point of the article was to prove that marriage was sustainable in the long term, that it was dumb to even delude oneself into thinking that it was worth it at all.

Of course, it was cynical, that was the point.

She wished Anya could see that.

“Did you guys see that video of that _Love is Blind Couple_?” Jasper asked, rolling over to meet them from his desk around the corner. His phone was in his hand, already rolling a clip of a pretty blonde woman throwing armfuls of clothes over a balcony, screaming at a man standing below. Finally, at the end of the clip, she removed her wedding band and ring from her finger and threw it onto the pile, flipping off the man before disappearing back inside.

“Holy shit. That’s worse than the divorced Bachelor couple that keeps passive-aggressively arguing in their Instagram stories,” Harper exclaimed, taking the phone so she could watch the video again.

Clarke listened as Jasper, Harper and eventually Monty, all clustered around the phone, discussing the video in context to various other reality TV drama that had happened lately

She loved reality TV as much as the next person, but the conversation was incredibly frustrating. This was exactly what she was talking about, everything about these marriages was ridiculous. How could anyone take it seriously anymore?

Rolling her eyes, Clarke eased herself out of the conversation, still annoyed about her less than successful meeting.

But she couldn’t get the reality TV divorces out of her brain. Instead of working on her Taco Tuesday listicle, she fell into a rabbit hole of reality stars and their marriages. It was endless, stars from The Bachelor, Love is Blind, Love Island, Too Hot to Handle, all with their own massive list of broken engagements or failed marriages.

Maybe this was her angle.

Buzzfeed loves reality TV, in fact, it was basically their favorite topic. If she could find a way to incorporate this into her article, this could be the way she got her story into the world.

“I need that article about ‘The Best Kind of Salsa for your Mood’ by 3 pm,” Anya warned, tapping her pen on the edge of Clarke’s monitor forcing her to minimize her tab.

This would have to wait. But she was onto something here, she could just feel it.

***

Clarke leaned back against her pillows, a glass in one hand and a list of reality TV dating shows in front of her. There was something here, something that she could use to make Anya change her mind about this idea, about this article.

She clicked through each of the websites, scrolling through well-manicured photos and marked success stories. A nice veneer considering that most of these shows had a success rate of less than 15%.

“Apply now!!” a pop-up urged, filling her entire computer screen as she clicked on yet another show’s website.

The x-button was nowhere in sight, leaving her to skim the ad while she looked for it. Still nowhere to be found, so she blindly clicked around the page, hoping that hitting the corner would somehow let her escape.

And then—it pulled her up to the application page.

It was shorter than she expected, less aesthetic based than the application she’d seen for The Bachelor. This one read more like a dating profile, asking for past relationship information and the kind of values one generally looked for in a partner.

Out of all the shows she’d seen so far, this one seemed to be the most dedicated to ensuring success. There wasn’t much online in regard to controversy or post-show internet fame from the contestants and the cast contained real marriage counselors and someone with the title of ‘sexologist’. The failure rate was still close to 80%, with most of the couples making it down the aisle but not surviving in the long term.

So basically, it was a show all about proving what she had been trying to explain to Anya.

It was kind of perfect.

This could be her in, her way to get her point across under the guise of the standard cute Buzzfeed content.

She could contact the therapists, maybe the producers, do a deep dive on the process—

Except that detailed, thorough research and interviewing had gotten her absolutely nowhere so far. If this was going to work, she needed to go all out, needed to make it clear to Anya, and to everyone else that she meant business.

Draining the last of her wine glass, Clarke turned back to the application.

She needed to do something crazy and maybe applying for _Married at First Sight_ was just crazy enough to do the trick.

***

Whatever she put in her application, it was apparently what they were looking for because within a week, she had been contacted by a producer.

They’d interviewed her about her dating life, about her family values, her parents' marriage, her career. It was a basic cut and dry question and answer. By the end of the call, the two pearly white therapists were beaming and telling her they would reach out to her again soon.

And they did, inviting her to come down to Santa Barbara to be formally evaluated by one of their marriage therapists.

Clarke tried to cover her excitement as she breezed through her week, trying to make sure that nobody caught on to what she was doing. She needed to be cast and confirmed with the paperwork signed before she let anyone at work catch wind of what she was doing.

Finally, Friday finally came, after an entire week of scouring the internet for weird Amazon products and gifs, it was time for her to go to her interview.

Dressed in her favorite pair of jeans and a top that was just low cut enough to show off her figure, Clarke slipped out of the office early, knowing that nobody would notice. Santa Barbara wasn’t too far from her office and she reached the crowded office building by the end of her _Call Her Daddy_ podcast.

The interview was not what she was expecting, there was a line of women almost out the door. They were all dressed their absolute best, an endless stream of sky-high heels and well fitted, tasteful tops. It was crowded and intense and suddenly, Clarke lost the sense of confidence she’d been building up only a few moments before.

This was going to be more involved than she thought.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” a dark-haired girl smirked, stepping off to the side to make room for Clarke in the line.

“Yeah, I thought this was just going to be one-on-one,” she agreed, smiling gratefully as she stepped in beside her.

“Oh no, we’re in for an entire afternoon of emotional awareness workshops and sex-positivity interviews,” the girl sighed, handing Clarke a sheet with the schedule for the day.

“Fantastic,” Clarke sighed, taking the paper, trying not to let her lack of excitement show. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

There were a lot of people here, a lot of competition for being selected for the show. She needed a game plan. Her original idea was to make herself seem as crazy as possible, that her drama would help her get selected for the content alone. But this show wasn’t the kind of show that her tactics would work with.

These people meant business.

She was going to have to be herself, do this for real, and see if that was enough.

***

Bellamy leaned back in the decorative plush chair, trying to ignore the bright glaring light in his face. This was a million times more awkward than he’d been prepared for. When his management signed him up for this, he had been more than a little pissed. In fact, he’d threatened to fire Luna at least four times since this interview process began.

But he couldn’t afford to get fired by his agent, especially not now, when he was being traded in his third year.

“So Bellamy, can you tell me a bit about your past relationships?” the therapist asked, flashing her the whitest brightest smile possible.

Unlike everyone else here, Bellamy wasn’t worried about being cast. He knew with all the strings Luna had pulled that he would be given a spot. But this interview would determine the kind of girl he got stuck with.

Considering his reputation—and his well-known dating history, he needed to be extremely careful.

Luna had coached him about what to say, how to respond to certain questions. She’d been very clear, he needed to marry someone upstanding, educated and who had little interest in fame. No cheerleaders, no Instagram models, and no professionals from Dancing with the Stars.

This was about cleaning up his image, starting fresh, and hoping that his rather tumultuous romantic history could finally be forgotten.

“I uh—tend to not date seriously. I had a long term girlfriend for a while but, well, that didn’t exactly work out as well as I’d hoped,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I have a problem with going with people my body is attracted to but that I have nothing in common with.”

“That’s very insightful. We are here for exactly that reason. If you’re chosen for the show, we will take extra care to ensure that the person you marry is someone who you’re compatible with,” the woman agreed, jotting something down on her clipboard. “How do you think your exes would describe you?”

“Well, umm, I think that based on the YouTube video she made about me, that she thinks I’m shallow, non-committal, and emotionally unavailable,” he admitted, wincing at the adjectives, but knowing that he needed to get in front of his reputation.

The therapist coughed loudly at his revelation, scribbling furiously on her paper. Whether or not that was the right thing to say was yet to be seen, but either way, this was going to be very interesting.

***

“I can’t believe you let your agent and your PR manager bully you into getting married,” Octavia sighed, reaching out to straighten Bellamy’s tie. “This is easily the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“It’ll be good O, between the new team and all this, it’s a fresh start. Also, it’ll be nice to have something other than Echo’s stupid YouTube video pop-up when you Google my name,” Bellamy said, swatting his sister’s hands away.

Sure, this wasn’t ideal, but it was pretty much his only option. Luna said it was either this or go into hiding for a while until the press died down. He could not do hiding, not when he had a new team to promote, new fans to win over. This was a crucial time in his career and as much as he didn’t want to, this was the only way to get his SEO back on track, and his reputation cleared up.

“If I hate her, you have to listen to me this time. I told you leading Echo on wasn’t a good idea and look where it got you.”

“Well I can’t exactly lead on my wife, now can I?” he smirked, giving his hair one last once over in the mirror before buttoning up his jacket.

Octavia snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly, she looked like she was about to say something else, brows still furrowed in worry. But they were interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Clearly only a courtesy because three seconds later the camera crew barreled in and shining their bright overhead lights in his face.

“It’s time to go,” his assigned therapist from his interviews said cheerfully, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the cramped dressing room.

He hadn’t exactly expected his TV wedding to a complete stranger to be romantic, but he was shocked by how clinical this whole thing was. His friends, family, and select teammates were lined throughout one side of the room, all with huge plastered grins on their faces.

A team of three women arranged him in the front of the room, instructing him not to stray from an X marked on the ground.

“You need to really play up your reaction when you see her. There won’t be any music, we add it in post, so don’t be surprised when there isn’t any,” one of the women said, fixing his bangs once again.

Before he even had time to process what she was saying, a cameraman was counting down from ten. His guests, as well as the random strangers on the other side of the room all, looked uncomfortable and confused, based on the way his therapist was tugging at the corners of her mouth, he probably did too.

Putting on his best excited smile, Bellamy turned to face the door.

Right on cue, they swung open and he caught his first glimpse of his future wife.

***

Clarke tried not to let her smile falter as she took in her husband.

Despite what the title may have implied, this was not the first time she’d seen this man. He was oddly familiar, stirring a feeling of irritation that she couldn’t quite place.

Who was he? Did she know him from work? From high school maybe?

She wracked her brain as she neared closer, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

“Clarke Griffin, I’d like to introduce you to your future husband…Bellamy Blake,” the minister said warmly, taking on of her hands and joining them with his.

And then—it hit her.

Bellamy Blake.

He was bigger now, broader and stronger, his jaw a little sharper, but that telltale smirk was still exactly the same.

Nearly ten years ago, when Clarke was in college, she’d interned with ESPN. Her only job was to interview players after NCAA football games and Bellamy Blake used to make it a point to make her job as difficult as possible.

He’d nicknamed her princess, refused to answer any of her questions directly, most of the time he teased her instead of paying attention to what she was saying.

She’d hated interviewing him, and yet somehow, they were always assigned to each other. By the end of the season, the sight of him was enough to make her want to throw a football in his face as hard as she could.

Sports media wasn’t exactly her calling, but his complete disregard for her professional interviews definitely contributed to the fact that she wasn’t asked back after her first semester.

Of course, this would happen.

They’d managed to not only match her with someone she knew, but with someone who she couldn’t stand.

Clarke barely registered the words that the minister was saying, all she could do was stare at Bellamy and try not to let it outwardly show how stunned she was.

She had to admit, the years had been kind to him. He was handsome up close, tall and broad, with the same warm eyes and splatter of freckles he had when they were younger. If didn’t know him, she probably would’ve been excited at the prospect of being married to someone this attractive.

“Clarke, do you take Bellamy to be your husband?” the man asked, catching her off guard as he pressed a gold band into her palm.

“I do,” she replied, smiling nervously at Bellamy, trying her best not to laugh or do anything awkward. This was weird enough; they didn’t need to do it twice because she couldn’t keep a straight face.

“And Bellamy, do you take Clarke to be your wife?”

“I do,” he answered, winking at her as he slipped the ring on her finger.

It was heavier than she anticipated, a solid weight against her skin. She’d expected something about this to feel different, but other than the hyperawareness of the ring, nothing had changed.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister declared, throwing his hands up in the air as their friends and family cheered them on.

Bellamy’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer, his eyes finding hers. They shared a look, a silent reintroduction before they leaned in. The kiss was short, soft, and sweet, just enough to give the cameras what they wanted. It was a taste of something she’d missed desperately, the closeness of another person, the heat of a kiss. Despite herself, Clarke wanted more.

She kept her palms bracketing his cheeks, surging forward for one last peck before they pulled apart.

“Good to see you again princess,” he whispered as they pulled apart, his lips tracing the shell of her ear. 

She’d hated that nickname when they were in college, but something about hearing it now sent shivers down her spine.


	2. Weeks 1 and 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @chickens474 for requesting this update as part of t100fic4blm!! I will include more information in the closing notes if you are interested in our initiative!

Clarke tapped her finger on her knee, trying to focus on anything other than the man sitting beside her. 

Not exactly an easy task when you’re crammed on a plane. 

They hadn’t gotten a moment alone since they said: “I do.” 

Contrary to how it seemed on TV, the camera crews never actually left them alone. They’d spent hours after the wedding, in the bridal suite, positioning and repositioning shots, filming talking heads about being nervous. 

By the time the lights were taken down, and they finally changed out of their formal clothing, Clarke fell asleep in an armchair. 

And she awoke to a banging on the door from the camera crews, already back to film them packing up and talking about their honeymoon. 

In total, they’d spoken maybe 10 words to each other the entire time they’d been married. 

Clarke longed to probe Bellamy about why he came on this show, to see how he remembered her. She hadn’t been expecting to end up with someone she knew, even if he was one of the most annoying people she’d ever met. 

But it was just too risky. 

There were eyes and ears everywhere, other couples from the show were seated only a few rows away, and the production team was just a few rows behind that. 

She didn’t know what would happen if the crew figured out they’d met before. Although, she was kind of shocked they didn’t already know. Sure, social media wasn’t as common when she was in college, but there had to be clips out there of Clarke interviewing Bellamy after his games. 

“Do you want a drink?” She asked, leaning into Bellamy as the beverage cart neared closer. 

“I’ve never wanted one more,” he agreed, already pulling down his tray table. 

They drank their rum and Cokes in silence, both staring straight ahead, like they were awaiting execution. 

It would almost be funny if there wasn’t such a big knot in Clarke’s stomach. 

She wasn’t sure why she was so thrown off. 

This was all for an article, after all. 

***

  
The second they entered the hotel room, Bellamy gestured for Clarke to follow him into the bathroom. 

It wasn’t anything special, a claw foot tub and two double sinks, bookended with a walk-in closet. 

He held up a finger, closing the door and locking it before turning on the tub. 

Water flowed through the spout, filling the air with the harsh whoosh of white noise. 

“Overkill?” Clarke asked, toeing off her shoes so she could soak her feet under the running water. It wasn’t an accusation. If anything, she looked intrigued by his admittedly crazy behavior. 

“Maybe...but I mean, this definitely wasn’t supposed to happen,” he replied, leaning against the counter. “And I can’t afford them finding out and cutting us out of the season or something.” 

Clarke didn’t respond, swirling her toe in the half-filled bathtub. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, and the second she did, Bellamy knew he’d fucked up. Clarke was smart, probably too smart for her own good—and he hadn’t exactly cleared with his people whether or not he was supposed to disclose the game plan with her. 

But he could already see the wheels turning in her head. 

“Does anyone actually come on this show to find love?” He sighed, unlacing his own shoes so he could sit across from her on the tub. 

Her expression was unreadable. 

He hoped he hadn’t said the wrong thing, that Clarke didn’t come on this show because she believed in fate and luck and soulmates. 

Because if she did—he was most definitely an asshole. 

“Not in my experience,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

The exchange felt fragile, and Clarke was still closed off enough that he couldn’t tell for sure. But he knew that she wasn’t stupid, that more likely than not, she had an ulterior motive of her own. 

He had two options here, play along for the sake of the game, or be honest with her. 

Considering she hated his guts, honestly was probably the best policy. 

“So, do you want to start with what happened in college? Or should we just jump to how we both ended up on this stupid show?” He asked, kicking off his own shoes so he could sit across from her on the edge of the tub. 

She swirled her toe in the water, squirting a line of bath gel under the tap. Clearly, she was stalling. 

“By what happened in college, do you mean how you got me fucking fired from ESPN?” Clarke snapped, lowering her voice as her eyes flicked toward the door. 

And—that hadn’t been what he was referring to. In fact, he had absolutely no clue what she was referring to. He’d been talking about the sexual tension between them and then the way she’d blown him off anytime he tried to talk to her outside the stadium. They had never gotten the chance to address their weird dynamic, not after he got recruited his senior year and finished his degree online anyway. 

“What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t get you fired!” Bellamy exclaimed, splashing the almost knee-deep water in his surprise. 

“You actually did—“ 

They were both starting to get heated, the rush of the water barely covering their voices as they bickered back and forth about events long passed. 

“You left the game in the middle of my interview Bellamy!” She yelled, splashing the water purposely in his direction. 

Bellamy couldn’t believe she was dwelling on this still, that she could be so angry about one stupid interview. And, of course, it was that interview. 

There was no way his family emergency was the reason that Clarke got fired from her internship. 

He started to tell her as much when a loud bang echoed through the bathroom. 

“We need you outside to get some footage with the others,” one of the cameramen said, hitting the door with his fist. “Whatever you’re doing in there, there’ll be plenty of time to do it later.” 

They both rolled their eyes at the suggestion that they’d been doing anything remotely sexual, but eased out of the tub, ensuring they stayed a healthy distance apart from one another. 

***

  
The others were even more bizarrely matched than Bellamy and Clake, to the point that she was starting to suspect they paired people solely to create drama. 

Raven was an engineer who seemed almost as unhappy to be here as Clarke was, but didn’t seem as intent on hiding it. She’d been paired with the soft-spoken, cerebral Wells. Neither had spoken a word to the other during the entire volleyball game or ensuing dinner. 

Even more oddly paired were Josephine and Murphy. They spent the entire evening openly antagonizing each other and pelting each other with volleyballs. 

But perhaps the oddest was Emori and Gabriel, who seemed to get along fine but acted more like siblings than a couple. Something about the way they interacted made Clarke suspect that they’d known each other before this arrangement too. 

Careful to ensure that Bellamy didn’t see, although he clearly wasn’t here for love either, so hiding felt a bit silly. Clarke jotted down detailed notes about each couple. This would be gold for her article and act as excellent evidence that these shows were further degrading the already broken marriage institution. 

“How much do you want to bet that Murphy and Josephine kill each other before we make it back home?” Bellamy chuckled, drying his curly hair with a towel. 

He acted as if their argument earlier hadn’t happened, and frankly, Clarke preferred it this way. 

“I think Emori and Gabriel know each other...like from before the show. They’re way too comfortable around each other,” she shrugged, tucking her notebook into the bedside table as she climbed under the covers. 

“I’m glad to see we agree that Raven and Wells are a snooze fest,” he chuckled, tossing the towel back into the bathroom as he joined her in bed. “But I got a weird vibe from Gabe and Emori too.” 

They laid awkwardly side by side, not quite touching and staring up at the ceiling. 

“This would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn’t actively hate my guts,” Bellamy said, still staring directly ahead. 

And deep down, Clarke knew he was right. But the memory of the interview and the ensuing conversation with her boss still stung more than she would have liked, especially when paired with the mind-numbing stupidity of her current job. 

It had bothered her since the day it happened, a lingering curiosity over what exactly went down, whether things would’ve gone differently if she’d been nicer to him. 

“Let’s just leave the past behind us, okay?” She sighed, turning on her side so she could look at him more closely. 

“Suit yourself.” 

“But I think you’re right that we can’t go on like this. They’re going to figure out something weird is going on, and we’re going to get kicked off the show,” Clarke admitted, knowing that this meant she had to let some of her anger go, even if she didn’t want to. 

“You know, you never told me why you came on here.” 

And Clarke was at a crossroads. 

Either she could lie—like she’d initially planned or have an ally in this. Even if she didn’t necessarily like him, it would be nice to have someone to talk to. 

“I work for Buzzfeed,” she began, deciding that lying would get too complicated very quickly. 

“Quick, tell me what kind of cat I am based on my favorite pizza topping,” Bellamy teased, finally allowing himself to face her fully. 

From this angle, Clarke had to admit he was pretty attractive. At least she didn’t have a bad view for the next two months. 

“Very funny. I’m trying to get them to take me more seriously or just get something decent in my portfolio so I can write somewhere more respectable.” 

“So you’re doing that by joining a reality dating show?” 

“To prove that marriage is a broken institution and reality TV is making it worse,” she explained, hoping he would understand her premise. 

A heavy silence sat between them as Bellamy took in her words. 

“Do you really believe that?” He asked, and it seemed like he might reach out and take her hand, but he never actually did. 

“Yeah, I mean, my parents’ marriage was—complicated, and I’ve never really trusted the concept since.” 

He nodded, but it seemed like he didn’t really believe what she was saying. And she couldn’t blame him, not when he seemed like a rosy-cheeked, all American superhero who probably had parents who were still disgustingly in love. 

“Well, based on the others, I’d say you’ve got yourself the basis of a serious win.” 

“Yeah, it’s quite the Petri dish out there,” she agreed, ready to be done explaining her half of the equation. “What about you? I would think that a professional football player wouldn’t have a hard time finding a girlfriend.” 

“Finding girlfriends isn’t the issue. It’s more so, the damage control that comes afterward that’s the problem,” he sighed deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Google ‘Echo Tri: My Story’ and you’ll pretty much understand that whole situation.” 

“You dated a girl named Echo Tri? Let me guess...she’s a model,” she teased, pulling out her phone and searching what he told her. Sure enough, Echo was a model, and she was also extremely pissed at Bellamy. 

The actual story wasn’t anything major, just standard asshole guy behavior. He’d broken up with her via text message and moved across the country the next day. Not exactly Romeo, but not Satan either. 

But the comments were brutal, a few suggesting that Bellamy’s PR nightmare would follow him to his new team. 

“So you’re here to have a pretty wife and a cleaned-up image?” Clarke asked as she put her phone back down on the bedside table. 

“Yeah, it was my agent’s idea. She’s pissed as hell about the whole text message thing, went on and on about Joe Jonas and Justin Hartley and how I should know better,” he shrugged. “But yeah, it’s kind of imperative that we don’t fight on camera.” 

“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time in the bathroom with the tub running then.” 

***

  
They’d only fought a handful of times on their honeymoon, thankfully. 

Most of the screen time was taken up by Josephine pushing Murphy off the side of a snorkeling boat and then his subsequent rebuttal of spilling a strawberry daiquiri in her lap. 

Meanwhile, Wells and Raven spent the entire week making out any chance they got—apparently, they’d broken the ice. 

Clarke and Bellamy spent most of their time with Emori and Gabriel, both of whom were surprisingly fun to be around. 

On the plane ride home, Josephine got drunk off mini bottles of vodka and then decided she no longer cared to sit next to her husband. 

“I don’t give a fuck where you go, just don’t sit by me,” she snapped, turning into the window to further demonstrate her point. 

With a defeated sigh, Murphy stood and looked around the plane. Immediately, Clarke curled into Bellamy’s side and looked up at him with her best love-struck gaze. 

“There’s no way in hell I’m sitting next to her for three hours,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his neck. 

“I’m right there with you.” 

Gabriel ended up becoming the sacrificial lamb, leaving him to slowly feed Josie pretzels. 

Meanwhile, Murphy looked relieved to have a few moments of peace in the back row with Emori. 

Bellamy found himself holding a sleeping Clarke as their ride continued, his audiobook droning in his ear about perseverance as she snuggled into his chest. 

The more time they spent together, the more Bellamy was starting to like her. She wasn’t bad for the most part, maybe a little intense, but he enjoyed helping her pick through the details of their day to include in the article. 

Maybe in another world, in a world where they’d gotten off to a better start and where his mom hadn’t gotten into an accident in the middle of a big football game—they could’ve been friends, maybe even something more. 

But here they were, partners in crime, and honestly, it was more than he could’ve hoped for. 

After they landed, an exhausted producer shepherded them to a generic apartment complex and gave them keys to their new living spaces. 

“Welcome to your new homes!” She explained, stepping aside so their therapist could elaborate on the benefits of shared living spaces. 

The cameras followed each couple to their doors, and Bellamy really hammed it up. 

“I gotta carry you over the threshold! It’s good luck,” he exclaimed, sweeping Clarke off her feet and then trying to seem unaffected when she kissed him. 

“Oh my Gosh! It’s so cute!” Clarke exclaimed, and Bellamy knew her well enough by now to know she was lying through her teeth. 

The apartment was fine, generically furnished and sparse, but nice enough. They set their stuff down in the master bedroom, arranged their toiletries in the double sink. The tub wasn’t nearly as nice as the one in the hotel, which would make their nightly foot soaks a bit more cramped. 

“We’re going to leave you guys to yourselves for a while. Use the hand cam when you cook dinner or do something cute,” the cameraman explained, obviously bored with the mundane behavior. 

They both gathered by the door as they waved the cameras off, relieved to have a moment of peace. Although Clarke had a suspicion that there were cameras in places they couldn’t see. 

It seemed that Bellamy shared her trepidation. 

“Why don’t we take a little shower?” He said, running his hands up and down her arms, walking them back slowly toward the bathroom. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck, smoothing over the hairs brushing his collar as she pushed up to kiss him. 

His hands slid down to her waist, steadying her while they made their way to the only secure place in the entire apartment. 

“They’re going to think we are so clean by the end of this,” Bellamy chuckled after he bumped the door closed with his heel. 

It took Clarke a moment to steady herself. If nothing else, the one thing that worked between them was this. She wanted to keep kissing him, but it would only make this more complicated. 

Friends she could handle, fuckbuddies were a totally different story. 

“Or just that we’re extremely horny and have a thing for the shower,” she shrugged, turning on the tap and dumping a few cups of Epsom salt into the running water. 

“Well, that would only help us, wouldn’t it?” He agreed, peeling off his socks and settling at the corner of the tub. “What’s your take on hidden cameras?” 

“Most definitely. The bathroom is probably the only safe place.” 

They’d agreed to keep the act up whenever possible and drawn the line at kissing. With all the other lunacy going on around them, it wouldn’t take much to get the cameras off their backs. Between all the fighting between Murphy and Josie, the aggressive hornyness of Wells and Raven, and the painfully platonic energy between Emori and Gabriel, there were plenty of distractions. 

“What do you think our plan of action should be?” 

“I need more info from the other couples for my article. I thought we could invite everyone over for a dinner party?” 

“I like it. If it works, then we can make it a standing thing, gives us a good chance to keep up with everyone.” 

Clarke leaned back against the cool, tile wall and studied her husband. He absently turned his ring as he settled into his spot, like he too was trying to come to terms with the fact that they were actually married. 

“Can you cook?” She asked, hoping to shift the tension between them over to something lighter. 

“If you count pasta and a handful of the easy stuff, then yeah.” 

“Pasta dinner it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Wiping the dust off this fic has been fun, it's kind of slipped my mind with all my other WIPs but I forgot how cute this little guy is! I'm excited to get back into it. 
> 
> You all are so lovely and supportive, thank you to everyone who has helped me feel more like myself these past few days. I am so grateful for all of you and your kindness. Thank you for reading this one and my others, all of you are part of what makes doing this so fun. 
> 
> This chapter was written as part of t100fic4blm! This initiative is a fundraiser for Black Lives Matter related organizations! You can find more information on our Twitter and Tumblr accounts if you would like to leave a prompt for one of us. I am only accepting prompts for current WIPs at the moment! 
> 
> Sending you all so much love, stay healthy and well, if no one has told you today you are important and I'm happy you're here :)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but well...famous last words. Hope you like yet another reality TV fic from me lol I watched the latest season of this show recently and man, it's wild. I'm excited for you to see the insane pairings I have planned for this (it's def not what you think from the tags). 
> 
> Anyway, the BLM fundraiser is still ongoing so if you're interested you can find more information on Tumblr! Also if you want to chat or be pals you can find me @nakey-cats-take-bathsss
> 
> Much love y'all!! 
> 
> ***I am currently on a writing hiatus, this is pre-written and I wanted to get the first chapter out since it was just sitting on my computer. I'll be back 7-16 but am still currently accepting prompts***


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